Chapter 411

Where is the trust between people?

These damn fools, even when pretending, are so lazy.

They don’t even bother pretending anymore—just awkwardly acting there. Old Fang, as lord of the Forest Sea, is one of the Nine Dominants of Fangzhang Island.

These Nine Dominants may differ in strength, but not enough to instantly annihilate one another. If he could truly defeat opponents so easily, where would Old Fang even have a place on Fangzhang Island? He’d have been captured as a slave long ago.

“Does it hurt?” Seeing the tear at Tong Guiguai’s corner of her eye, Yunze felt anger inside but didn’t want her to suffer. Yet his hand froze mid-reach when he saw the resentment in her eyes. What’s wrong with her?

Yunze sighed. With Tong Guiguai, someone so stubbornly fixed in her thinking, you had to explain things thoroughly and clearly.

“Jiuyue has taken her to the Yuan Sheng Pool. You can rest easy.” Immortal King Hua Qian Shi looked up at the star-strewn sky, took a single step forward, and the entire sea instantly calmed into a mirror, utterly still.

“Slap!” I slammed my palm on the table, startling everyone nearby into glancing over.

“Crack… crack…” Su Jin looked up and saw dust falling from the ceiling onto the bed. Seeing trouble brewing, she quickly dodged aside.

“Go attend to the client in Meeting Room Three.” Liu Ning tossed her a pile of documents and turned back to her office without giving her a chance to refuse.

“Wah!” Su Jin let out another loud wail, louder than her two previous outbursts.

Nan Gong Yu Han saw Li Yilan’s indifferent expression, and his lips curled into a sneer as he looked at her with mockery.

Wu Shang and I were both puzzled—what had happened in that realm to turn it into this?

Is this a feint to lure me in? But it doesn’t look like it. Or perhaps her scheming is too deep, her acting too good.

Thus, though Xier cared little for building his own influence, he had no objection to casually doing so now.

“This… your safety…” Having just encountered Zhu Cheng and the others today, Fatty naturally had doubts. Mu Qin, who now saw Li Zhishi as her emotional anchor, shook her head like a rattle drum, refusing outright.

Unlike Nie Wei, Shen Roujia was always busy—filming a movie today, a TV drama tomorrow, a variety show the day after, plus countless endorsement ads.

The soldiers guarding the East Gate heard the Grand Marshal’s mansion was on fire and grew uneasy, fearing Wu Song might burst out from there.

“Alright, I’ll go with you. I interviewed there recently—I know the location.” Wei Liang looked at me, turned, and went inside to fetch something. I held my phone, sighed deeply, and walked toward the door.

Chen Zui took the contract and read it carefully. You know what? Manager Wu really was a good comrade who corrected his mistakes—this contract offered far better terms than the current office, with much cheaper rent. Probably the best he could manage within his authority.

Now I understand—I made no mistake! I never harmed anyone. Why treat me like this? I never expected everyone to like me.

This wasn’t an illusion—the sunlight above truly seemed drawn to him; the surrounding snow now glowed brightly.

Thus, in a grand mansion with a gate wide open to the wind, Zhu Cheng sat quietly in the draft, seeking relief from the heat inside his chest.

Yet conversely, because of Shen Qielan, to think his father and brother’s deaths were worth it—that was impossible.

Song Yu admired her indifference toward the media and her refusal to linger on the red carpet for photo ops.

In his heart, Zhou my lord swore: What the hell is the Labor Sect?! But since he’d accepted the title of Labor Sect Master, he wouldn’t back down. Someone who infiltrated the enemy government as a high-ranking spy—could he be stupid? Could his mental resilience be weak?